


Things you said that made me feel like shit

by metalkiralylany



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character Study, Detroit years, Drinking, Drunk Katsuki Yuuri, Friendship, Gen, Insecurities, some hurt feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 00:05:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12852414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalkiralylany/pseuds/metalkiralylany
Summary: When Yuuri bombs one of the first competition of the season in Detroit, thankfully he has a friend who won't let him sulk alone. But the best friendships can have some bumps on the road when one's not paying attention, and even the most cheerful people might have their limits that you should never cross.It's Phichit and Yuuri though, so it might just work out in the end.Short pre-canon drabble written for the prompt that became the title.





	Things you said that made me feel like shit

**Author's Note:**

> This is like, mostly and attempt at character study or something. Enjoy!

Yuuri stared at the empty rink in silence. The crowd and most of the skaters and their coaches had already left the arena, the lights over the rink were starting to dim as even the cleaning crew was mostly finished for the day.

The event was over. The smooth surface of the ice held no memories of what had gone down only a few hours ago; not like Yuuri’s body did. The dull pain in his right knee, the light bruise already forming on his hip, and the subtle burn of the embarrassing cuts across his palm where he tried to stop himself from sliding too far after his fall on the triple salchow was more than enough reminder that he had failed. Miserably.

He just didn't feel the program. He struggled with his assigned theme this season, and stressing over it, trying to make it believable, to make it _his_ cost him half of his jumps today. Missing the landings and panicking internally over underrotations took a toll on his presentation, which was supposed to be his strength. His step sequences were still solid but that alone couldn't save the disastrous performance.

 

He couldn't look anyone in the eye after he left the ice, the half-hearted clapping of the audience echoing in his mind as he sat with his shoulders slumped at the kiss and cry. Celestino patted him on the back when he received his free skate score. Without his glasses Yuuri could barely make out the numbers on the screen in front of him but maybe that was for the better. Celestino was, of course, optimistic, talking about areas to improve further and future competitions, rather than the disaster he had just witnessed. Yuuri nodded along, solemnly promising that he would work on his posture to improve his takeoffs and learn from the mistakes he had made, even though they both knew it was futile. He had already learnt the most painful lesson - maybe he just wasn't cut out to be a champion.

 

A door opened behind him with a loud creak and he didn't have to turn around to know who came back to find him. They stood side by side wordlessly for a few seconds, just breathing in the distinct smell of the artificial ice before Phichit finally broke the silence.

“A couple of us are going out to blow some steam off,” he said. Yuuri sighed. He was pretty sure that Phichit rolled his eyes. “I think it'd be good for you to come,” he continued.

“Yes, because I'm great company, right?” Yuuri replied with a grimace.

Phichit bumped their shoulders together, a gesture Yuuri wouldn't have accepted from anyone else. “Yes, you are. You don't _have_ to come if you don't want to,” he said as he turned around to leave, “but you're always welcome!”

Yuuri nodded and after a final glance at the rink he followed his friend out, fully intending to go back to their shared dorm room and just crash for the night.

 

***

 

The noise of the club was overwhelming. With the heavy electronic bass resonating in his chest and threatening to burst his eardrums, and the colorful lights flashing across the dance floor turning into a nauseating swirl of sensation, Yuuri had to close his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. His mind wasn't very cooperative, words escaping him before he could string them into sentences as he held one finger up in front of Phichit’s lips to get him to stop talking. Even though he wasn't really sure anymore if he were in the first place.

His friend looked mildly amused by his struggling but he waited for him to get himself together patiently.

“You don't understand!” Yuuri said, his words slurring slightly, for what felt like the hundredth time. Maybe it was. He kind of lost track of time and conversations.

“Right. I don't.”

Phichit's reply also sounded familiar. Maybe they had been over this already. But Yuuri's alcohol-fogged mind didn't give much attention to that idea, especially since it seemed that all those hypothetical conversations still got them nowhere. He sighed more dramatically than he intended, resting his chin on his arms crossed on the tiny table between them. Phichit said nothing but raised his eyebrows at him expectantly. His legs were bouncing under the table to the beat of the music. Yuuri started to feel bad about keeping him sitting here, away from all the fun he was supposed to be having. After all, he had won a bronze medal earlier that day. He should be celebrating, not babysitting his pathetic friend too miserable to function. He should just go and leave him behind. He attempted to tell him this but all he managed to get out was “ _Leave_!” and a quick muttered apology once he realized that it didn't quite come out as he meant for it to.

Phichit just snorted.

“I'm not leaving. I've already gone dancing three times. One time with you. You forgot?” he yelled over the music, laughing.

_Oh._

“Sorry,” he mumbled again. “It's just…” He buried his face in his hands. “I really messed up. I lost.”

“Yuuri,” Phichit sighed. “We've been over this.”

Yuuri frowned at him.

“Okay,” Phichit went on. “You popped some jumps, yes. It happens to the best. I bet even Viktor has some bad days occasionally,” he shrugged.

“Don't even start,” Yuuri warned him, waving a finger dangerously close to his friend's face.

Phichit leaned back on his chair to avoid being accidentally poked in the eye due to Yuuri's subpar coordination.

“I'm not starting anything. I'm just saying that it's not the end of the world,” he shrugged.

“I failed!”

“You finished seventh, that's not bad.”

“It's not _good,_ ” Yuuri countered, suddenly irritated that Phichit still didn't seem to get it.

“The season has barely started. Your boots are new.”

He couldn't really argue with that. But he did it anyway.

“It was embarrassing.”

“Just try to let it go, Yuuri! You did what you could,” Phichit replied, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“But it wasn't good enough!” Yuuri was angry now. It was so simple, why couldn't Phichit just understand it?

“For who?” Phichit's voice sounded tired. “Celestino–”

“For _anyone!”_ Yuuri shouted.

“Yuuri–”

“No! You don't understand!” He was truly at the end of his rope now, no matter how irrational it might have been. Why couldn't he just… But that was the problem. The problem was that Phichit didn't think about skating same the way he did. “I can't just be content with whatever place I get! Maybe you can do that, you could be happy about being seventh or twentieth or whatever, that's not enough, that's not the _point…_ ” He was just rambling then, desperate to get his point across he was so caught up in his own thoughts so much that he almost missed the change in the atmosphere, but when he looked up, Phichit has stood up from the table, his usually kind face completely expressionless, and there was an unfamiliar edge to his voice as he spoke.

“It's time to get you home.”

He barely waited for Yuuri to scramble to his feet as he quickly said goodbye to their rinkmates and headed straight towards the exit. Both Yuuri's body and his mind struggled to catch up with him, turning his own words over in his head trying to figure out what he might have said to upset his friend as he stumbled onto the quiet street after him, occasionally tripping over his own feet.

 

Phichit stayed uncharacteristically silent during the short walk to the dorm. He was watching out for Yuuri's uncertain steps though, for which he was grateful. The cold night air chased away some of the intoxication, and as his muscles began to tremble from exhaustion Yuuri started to realize that he had fucked up. He had fucked up really bad. But each time he opened his mouth to say something he found none of the words necessary to make this right. He kicked himself mentally as he remembered the hurt in Phichit's eyes as he looked down at him under the colorful lights before turning away to leave without any further explanation.

 

Yuuri contemplated his apology all the way up to their dorm room. While Phichit went to the tiny kitchen to get them two full glasses of water, he flopped down on his bed ungracefully, apparently still not sober enough to act like a decent person. Phichit waited for him to sit up before handing him one of the glasses and looked him over to assess whether he needed any more help for the night. Their eyes met. Yuuri felt shame clutching his chest. The defeat he had suffered on the ice suddenly felt insignificant compared to the way he managed to fail his best friend tonight.

“Phichit, I'm sorry,” he blurted out, dragging a hand across his face. “I was… I'm…” He had no idea how to continue. He wasn't really good at apologies and there was no excuse for what he had said. “Thanks for bringing me home,” he finished awkwardly.

Phichit sighed, his expression still more closed off than Yuuri has ever seen it be.

“Well. You might be a giant ass sometimes,” he began to say, “but you're my friend. You were the first friend I made when I came to the States.”

Yuuri could feel his face heat up and he hung his head, unable to meet Phichit's eyes.

“You were my first friend here, too,” he said quietly.

Phichit grunted in frustration before he threw himself down onto Yuuri's bed as well, somehow managing not to spill the water he was still holding.

“What I'm trying to say is that I know you pretty well by now,” he went on, carefully considering his words to make sure Yuuri understood what he wanted to get across. “I think I know what you were trying to tell me… but…” he scratched his head, a nervous habit. Yuuri waited for the inevitable blow. “I know it's hard for you to be happy about your skating unless you're the best,” he paused for another second, glancing at his friend. Yuuri's face twisted into a grimace. That was harsh. But not undeserved, also not unexpected from Phichit. It was their mutual understanding of each other that he always just said what was on his mind and that Yuuri expected him not to sugarcoat anything. That was something he appreciated. Still, he couldn't quite help the sharp pang of pain flashing across his body. “But that doesn't make it okay for you to put other people down, even if that wasn't what you meant. And I know it wasn't.”

Yuuri nodded, still unable to think of anything to say. Phichit knew him well but that went both ways. Yuuri also knew that under the solid layers of cheerfulness and confidence, Phichit was just as proud as him. There was also the added pressure of him being the only upcoming Thai skater with a chance for international success. He had no competition in his home country, which meant he set the tone and the bar for himself with overwhelming support from his people no matter what happened, but he also felt like he owed them for that. He owed them his victories and doing his absolute best whenever he stepped on the ice. He had told Yuuri this during their first year living together, and yet here he was, accusing him of not caring.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered again. “I shouldn't have said that because I know it's not true.”

 

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Phichit finally sat up, taking a deep breath.

“Okay,” he started, “apology accepted. But you're making me breakfast tomorrow,” he went on with a serious face. Relief flooded Yuuri, even though he knew there was a catch. There was always a catch. “And I want that breakfast at seven, which is…” he pulled out his phone to check the time, “in almost three and a half hours!” he exclaimed, grinning.

 

The other great thing about Phichit was that he never held any grudges.

 

Yuuri groaned lodly. “You'll send me straight to hell when I wake you up!”

“I know,” Phichit winked at him as he got up from Yuuri's bed. “Night, Yuuri!”

Instead of answering, Yuuri just faceplanted into his pillow. He made a quick mental note to find those ridiculous early risers on the first floor of the building first thing in the morning to trade some of his special spices brought from home for a couple of fresh eggs and some leftover meat – a deal they made whenever the busy skaters realized they had ran out of food in the middle of the night, which happened fairly often. College life was hard.

  
He winced as he set his alarm to 6:25, two hours and fifty minutes from then. Phichit was evil. But he totally deserved it this time, even if they knew they'd both wish death on the idea in a few hours when the ungodly alarm went off. Yuuri had no doubt in his mind about who was going to hate it more.


End file.
